


we're the only ones left

by donutcats



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, so many de rolo feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutcats/pseuds/donutcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra's eyes crinkle when she smiles, and it tugs at Percy's heart just a tad. "I remember this thing. Whitney was so jealous of it, always going on about how beautiful it was."</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're the only ones left

**Author's Note:**

> I have a soft spot for Percy and his family, mostly because I live off of angst and the sheer amount that this boy can pump out daily is astounding. But, I also like to think about events in the past, spinning my own sort of memories for Percy. This was a lot of fun to write.
> 
> title from The Mother We Share by Chvches

Percy is wandering about Whitestone, poking into long disused rooms, catching memories here and there, stuck between the cushions of a love seat or hidden in the folds of heavy curtains. Next to that bookcase is where he and Oliver would read each other books and twist the endings to their liking. That tablecloth is the same one Vesper tried to fashion into a very crude dress, using Percy as the model.

There used to be a vase on that table, before Julius managed to knock it over during a rousing game of tag. Ludwig was only a baby then, and while their mother picked shards of the ruined vase out of Percy's hands, he cried for Percy's pain.

He finds a sparkling crystal spun angel sitting on the mantel of a fireplace, catching the light of the few candles and throwing it back in soft fractal pieces across the walls and ceiling. Percy remembers finding this in a shop, the same one he remembers passing by when Vox Machina was pretending to be a dirty farming family.

It caught his eye, the sunlight casting the walls of the shop in a blanket of prismatic color. Percy bought it almost immediately. Or, he tried to buy it. But the shopkeeper knew him, of course he knew Percy. Percy was the third child of the Lord and Lady. The shopkeeper smiled, and told Percy he didn't need to pay. Percy dug in his pocket and produced a small handful of copper anyways.

"A tip, if you please. For your incredible generosity." Percival was only nine at the time, but he very much loved to read. And he loved to practice saying the things he read even more. His father was always telling him he had a knack for stringing words together, and Percy very much liked stringing words together.

The shopkeeper smiled, big and broad and genuine. Percy felt like he did something good, and as he looked at the small angel cradled in his hands, he realized he didn't know what to do with this figurine. He didn't exactly plan that far ahead. He thought about it, as he walked back home, not minding the trek back through town and even up the hill to Whitestone Castle.

Percy always found it funny, really, that he not only lived in the town of Whitestone, but also the castle of Whitestone. He always thought the castle should have a better name. Something less redundant. When he was older, and when Julius was the Lord, maybe Percy could suggest renaming the castle. The De Rolo Castle had a very nice ring to it.

As he walked back to his room, the fragile crystal held close to his chest for the utmost protection, he heard crying coming from down the hall. Not just crying, but full wailing. Ludwig had finally grown out of the wailing phase, which everyone was quite thankful for, so Percy knew right away that it was Cassandra.

Without much hesitation, Percy corrected his feet and let them take him to Cassandra's nursery instead. When he poked his head inside, he saw his mother, gently telling the nursemaid that she would deal with the screaming child. He stood in the doorway, letting the nursemaid walk past him, watching as his mother took the purple faced toddler in her arms and began to sing.

"Percival," came his mother's melodic voice, startling him. "Why don't you join us, darling? I bet your sister would love to see you." She was smiling at him, laugh lines crinkling around her eyes.  He remembers his mother telling him that the lines around her mouth and eyes were a good thing.

_‘It means that I have experienced so much joy, my dear Percy. Other women hate their wrinkles, but I love them, because they remind me how happy I am.’_

"Mother, I bought something at the shop." The angel was still held close to his chest, as he stepped closer to where his mother settled into a rocking chair.

"Percival." Her voice was soft but chastising.

"Mum."

It made her smile even wider, and she beckoned him closer. She never liked being called anything so formal. His father didn't mind it, would say he missed being called _Papa_ , but liked the sound of _Father_ just as well

Percy didn't realize Cassandra had quieted down until he was next to the rocking chair, looking at his baby sister's round face, the arm of a plush wolf stuffed into her mouth. Her eyes were as bright as the sun and her hair- there wasn't much of it, but what she had was wispy and caught in the afternoon sun spilling through the window.

She looked perfect, Percy had thought. He had never had this feeling when looking at Whitney or even Ludwig as a baby, and he doesn't remember Oliver being a baby because they were both busy being small around the same time. He had never seen his older siblings as babies. Percy wondered if Vesper or Julius had ever seen him when he was this small and thought, _I would do anything in the world to protect this person_. He hopes they did.

And in that same moment, something else clicked in his mind. Percy looked down at the crystalline angel, her robes and wings and halo making him think of Celestial. He was just starting to teach himself the odd song like language, and it felt like it didn't fit on his tongue, but he knew how it made him _feel_. Sounding out the looping and lyrical words made him feel the same way looking at Cassandra's chubby red cheeks did. Warm and whole.

"I got this, for Cass. It made me think of her and I want her to have it. She deserves something so beautiful, so otherworldly." Percy knew better than to hand it to his sister, with her vice like grip and aggressive movements, she would most definitely break it as soon as she had a hold of it. So he gave it to his mother instead, watching as her smile managed to grow even more.

"I don't know what I did to get such a wonderful thing as you, Percy. You are the otherworldly one in this family, never forget that."

 

\---

 

His trip down memory lane is cut short as a hand touches his elbow. It causes him to jerk, to clutch the angel close to his chest, like when he was a little boy. It's instinct by now, to turn and be on guard whenever something foreign touches him.

But it's only Cassandra, her eyes bright in the candle light, hair pulled into two thick braids. "I didn't mean to startle you brother."

"It's quite alright. I'm just a bit jumpy, is all." His fingers slowly uncurl from the crystal figure, and he pulls it away from his body, letting it lay gently in his palm. "Reminiscing about certain things tends to dull my perception, I suppose." Percy tacks on a chuckle for good measure.

Cassandra's eyes crinkle when she smiles, and it tugs at Percy's heart just a tad. "I remember this thing. Whitney was so jealous of it, always going on about how beautiful it was." She takes it from Percy, and once again he's struck by the similarities.

For so many years, he had convinced himself he was all that was left of the De Rolo line. He thought he would never see a smile like his mothers outside of a mirror again. He would never see hands that were slender and nimble if he wasn't looking at his own. Shoulders that dip and slope at just the right angle to bare a resemblance to his father.

"I should put this in my room. I didn't realize how much I missed seeing it until now. I think it was the first gift you ever gave me." Now, her smile is turned on Percy, and for a moment he has to catch his breath. He has to remind himself that he's not speaking to a ghost. That his baby sister is here, real and solid and alive.

"You were still a baby when I gave it to you, so yes, I suspect it was the first thing as well. I think putting it in your room would be a splendid idea." He returns the smile, warm and genuine. _He has a sister._

Cassandra holds the angel close to her, in much the same way Percy was a few minutes ago. She stares at it, turning it over in her hands, watching as the candlelight catches along the edges.

"You were always my favorite," Percy says suddenly, absently, as he finds himself in front of the bookshelf, fingers skipping over the spines of old books. The thought comes to him, as if plucked from the ether, but it doesn't make it any less true.

"Is that because I was the only one to ever actually want to spend time with you?" Cassandra's voice is light, teasing. It makes something in Percy's heart skip, as if he forgot that his sister could sound happy.

"Possibly. I remember you would sit in my workshop, poking around all the tools."

"Father was more than happy to give you that room in the cellar for your work. Fifteen and already begging for a place of your own. You convinced him that you would make all sorts of marvelous things, and he finally conceded."

"I _did_ make marvelous things."

"You would tell me stories, as you tinkered. My favorite was about the world that ran on steam. Copper and brass pipes winding through the cities, wrapping around buildings. Carriages that moved on their own, wheels made out of giant cogs. I always wished I could live there." Cassandra's smile is wistful and bright.

"I always wished I could build it for you." Percy slides out a book filled with poems, the cover a dark plum and title embossed in spindly silver script.

"You can't build an entire world, Percy." She comes up next to him, and Percy is once again struck by how tall he is. It happens far more than he likes, if he's being honest. Noticing that he's always been above average height for a human. Cassandra's head just crests the line of his shoulder, and her hand is curling into the dip of his elbow as she leans in, mouth quirking as she recognizes the familiar book.

Percy hums, flipping the book open. The lines and stanzas feel a lot like when Percy first saw Whitestone. Like coming home. "Well, at least 80% of the known civilizations have been ruined by four ancient fuck off dragons. I can certainly well try and rebuild, at the least." She laughs, the sound startled out of her but still quiet, face turning to press into his shoulder, _you're terrible_ muffled into his shirt. "We can start with the castle. It can be the prototype. Then, all of Exandria will run on copper and steam."

Fingers curl further into his elbow, lightly pressing into the soft skin, and Cassandra's laughter comes to a breathy stop. "If anyone could change the world, brother, I fully believe it could be you."

 


End file.
